


OBStuck

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Multi, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Troll Romance, Trollstuck, the clones are all trolls basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:20:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Orphan Black Homestuck AU where all of the clones are trolls. Drabbles, planning to write pre- and during SGRUB session. Ratings vary from chapter to chapter, as do warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a pretty box of your evil

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [OBStuck AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/66741) by piggy09. 



> Heavily inspired by [sharkodactyl's OBStuck AU.](http://sharkodactyl.tumblr.com/tagged/obstuck/chrono) A lot of my HCs probably won't make it in here, but I've assigned blood color, signs, classpects, horns, and sprites for everybody, so if you've got a question feel free to ask in the comments or on my tumblr! (I chose not to use troll names because I couldn't think of any that didn't sound painfully forced, but if you've got suggestions let me know.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> troll!helena. trigger warnings for self harm, gore, and implied deaths.

Helena lives in a cave and paints with blood on the walls. Her own rust mixes with yellows and bronzes and greens from her kind, blues and purples from animals. Every life is a gift, a gift from Skaia, a gift for her lusus and her belly, a tool to transcribe her visions.

Her lusus is feral and so is she, ragged and raw, always watching, always waiting, scratched and torn and remade better, better makes her different, better makes her safe. The first time she sees the others in the clouds she finds a yellowblood and dips her hair in it, takes its entrails and colors herself not the same. She is the light in the darkness, she is the color on the grays, the bright candy edge to the cold stone.

(She paints her face once but this is too much like the clown worshippers and she is ashamed because her religion is higher. She is her own god, though, in that rainbow mask, a terrible evil turned holy and good through righteous anger. Her lusus would approve.)

She kills her lusus on her sixth wriggling day. It is all too much, the guiding and the straying from her Mission to feed an extra mouth, and she does not need it any more when she has Skaia at her back. She is only alone when she is doing Skaia's work, gun in her hands with the familiar squint and slowdown where time stands still for her and everything is silent and she cannot hear the voices. It comes back as a ghost in the game, the terrible game, and she greets it with teeth bared somewhere between a smile and a snarl. 

Helena paints with blood on stone, fingers sticky and warm as death in the clouds is revealed- magic - under her hands. All she sees are trolls that look like her, but the horns are wrong and their blood dripping out from them is wrong and they are unholy, their iridescent blasphemy spewed out behind them on the cave walls, and Helena is sure she has caused some of these deaths, feels it in her aching red wings.

Only one is right. One with horns like Helena and blood like Helena, but so much brighter, so beautiful and lovely that she cannot find the shade in anything, cannot do this righteous thing justice. She tries with her own blood, but it still isn't right, and for the first time Helena feels like she is lesser. She dreams of her, dreams of diamonds and love, wakes up with the word "sestra" on her lips. On the nights she does not dream of the one with the red blood she grinds her horns against the stone and splatters her gifts across the walls. She makes diamonds now with her hands but she sees the candyredblood with the others, she sees her not seeing how wrong they are, how impure, sees the paleness in her eyes. Now she feels the rage of Derse with her, behind her, and she is afraid but she is powerful and wanting and hungry for their rainbow flesh.

Nobody will admit to letting her into the game (Rachel's name is whispered sometimes, bitter and low), but she wins faster than the rest of them. Her land of glass and candy is familiar as a second skin, and she climbs her quest bed giddy with success. Her sestra, her Sarah will help her do Skaia's work, will paint with her blood. They are the same and this is beautiful. They are the same and she will never let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be a thorn in your side  
> Till you die  
> I'll be a thorn in your side  
> For always  
> We sink  
> We lift our love 
> 
> -"We Sink," CHVRCHES


	2. of the blood on my lips again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Propunk kismemsis.

It happens like this: they both wake up the morning after with bruises and teeth marks and scratches; this is standard, this is good. The markings are the same but the colors aren't; violet and red against gray steel, seadweller and mutant scum claiming each other. They both wake up with hatred burning low in their stomachs, dark twisted hatred that recalls their ancestors and the days Before, the days when nobody was safe and the quadrants were not there to protect you, the days when there was no motivation to keep each other alive.

They have nearly killed each other on multiple occasions. Light and Void with knives and fists, Thieves and Knights, precision and blunt force, teeth around necks and claws sharpened to silvery points clenching around skin. They are beautifully matched and yet so opposite. They will nearly kill each other on many occasions; whether or not they succeed depends on the timeline. Beth hates them for causing so many incidents, but she hates almost everybody because she is Dead and they are Not.

They are visceral, primal. Sarah pins Rachel and Rachel shoves a thigh between her legs, bulge recoiling as she takes control (Sarah taught her how to fight like a street urchin and she hates her for it, hates her so much that it aches when they are separated, spades swimming before lavender-tinted eyes). They are all about control, all about who make the other scream and beg and pray to the gods that are not them. In most instances it is neither of them; the one who blinks first is the loser and extremes are not reached. 

Sometimes, though, sometimes the next day Sarah cannot walk and her crimson blood flashes like a warning under her flesh, branding her Rachel's, branding her defeat. These follow the nights that Rachel has taken her knife and slowly, almost lovingly traced out her veins and her thighs, moving up until she replaces the knife with her hand as Sarah bleeds and cries out for release.

And sometimes Rachel is shining purple and ever so slightly hunched, gills fluttering slow and sluggish as she recovers from Sarah's voice and fingers and mouth and bulge working over her, cool and detached. 

"You're supposed to be this bloody brilliant leader, trained at the palace under command of the Emperor, violet blooded, strong, healthy the best of all of us, yeah? And I reached god tier and you didn't, I held off Jack and I helped make the new universe and you were fucking useless because all of your training doesn't make you worth shit, I'm the scum and I am still better than you and it kills you, I hate you so much it's disgusting."

And as Sarah talks her fingers slide in, one two three, and Rachel is silent except for the gasps, mouth round and wanting, neck arched back because this is her speaking with a different tongue, she has done so well making this redblooded anomaly into a weapon, into her-but-not-her, into something unholy and beautiful. She hates her so much as Sarah's horns grind against hers and her bulge enters Rachel's nook, sopping wet, and then they are silent and they tear at each other, flesh and blood boiling to fill the space between hate and love.

It happens like this: they are perfect for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The steady burst of snow is burning my hands,  
> I'm frozen to the bones, I am  
> A million mile from home, I'm walking away  
> I can't remind your eyes, your face
> 
> -Iron, Woodkid


	3. i remember that time in my life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oops one sided soccercop

\--cacogenicCrusader [CC] began pestering casandrasGrapevine [CG] \--

CC: /*ali*/  
CC: /*alison*/  
CC: /*alison are you there*/  
CC: /*ok i guess youre still pissed at me*/  
CC: /*im sorry i havent tried to talk to you sooner but*/  
CC: /*we keep fucking dying which really sucks*/  
CC: /*and i have to keep the loops intact since sarah and rachel keep fucking them up*/  
CC: /*and HELENA*/  
CC: /*dont even get me fucking started on helena*/  
CC: /*jegus that chick is insane*/  
CC: /*even by my standards*/  
CC: /*and ive seen some shit*/  
CC: /*anyways*/  
CC: /*i just wanted to tell you i miss you*/  
CC: /*and if you wanna drop by my land and hang thatd be cool*/  
CC: /*oh hell youre not gonna answer*/  
CC: /*might as well say it*/  
CC: /*ive kinda got*/  
CC: /*flushed feelings for you*/  
CC: /*which is really awkward because were so far apart on the hemospectrum and stuff*/  
CC: /*and because youre so much better at this than me*/  
CC: /*like*/  
CC: /*i cant figure any of this stuff out*/  
CC: /*and youre just there looking up to me*/  
CC: /*even though youre like five steps ahead*/  
CC: /*and im confused as hell but you believe in me*/  
CC: /*maybe you should be in charge of hope*/  
CC: /*jennifer fucking sucks at it*/  
CC: /*um*/  
CC: /*but yeah*/  
CC: /*i like you*/  
CC: /*a lot*/  
CC: /*and im pretty sure theres no way you could like me back*/  
CC: /*but i just thought id get it out there*/  
CC: /*even though it doesnt really matter*/  
CC: /*because you wont speak to me*/  
CC: /*yeah i fucked up*/  
CC: /*...*/  
CC: /*wait. fuck. ive had this conversation before*/  
CC: /*or like... not-conversation*/  
CC: /*monologue? ali would like that*/  
CC: /*i keep forgetting im dead*/  
CC: /*well that sucks huh*/  
CC: /*fucking dream bubbles*/  
CC: /*might as well stop talking and smell the preexisting roses*/  
CC: /*bye fake alison*/  
\--cacogenicCrusader [CC] ceased pestering casandrasGrapevine [CG] \--

\--cacogenicCrusader [CC] began pestering casandrasGrapevine [CG] \--  
CC: /*<3*/  
\--cacogenicCrusader [CC] ceased pestering casandrasGrapevine [CG] \--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I just want to know,  
> How can I let go?  
> Don't wanna be, don't wanna be  
> Drowning in memories
> 
> -"Do You Ever," Phia


	4. to make the being alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Official Rachel Duncan exposition vehicle. (Her symbol is Ara.)

Rachel Duncan lost an eye the same day Beth and Katja died, the same day Cosima went blind and then saw again.

In the medium they cough, violet-teal-mustard-purple. They never talk about it.

-

The stripes in Rachel Duncan's hair are the exact opposite of her blood color. At the highblood parties they gossip, delicate cool whispers catching the light of the water.  _She kills a lowblood every month to keep them fresh. No, every week. Every day. It is her own blood. She is a lowblood, she killed her matesprit and took his fins. Nobody remembers him. She wants the throne. She will kill the Empress next. She will cull all of the land dwellers. She is our only hope. She is our downfall._

_-_

Her ancestor's name was The Heirless and this is all she can find. She strokes the violet altar on her chest and smiles at the irony.

-

The golden streets of Propspit are much less appealing than the gloomy tones of Derse, all politics and knives in the back. Rachel Duncan has been training with knives since she was two sweeps old. Instead she dreams and looks through the windows of her glassy tower to the city below, the hard white shells of the planet's citizens glistening in the sun. One day she will rule them all.

-  


She sees the way the alien boy looks at Sarah, sees the want and the red hearts flashing in his eyes. Rachel Duncan only has one quadrant filled and Sarah has three and this will not do. She was willing to begrudge her pale relations with lowbloods but an alien is too much.

Taking Paul's mind was supposed to be easy, easy as he chased after the girl in the god tier. He was all angles and maleness, insecurities shining through like lights in a tunnel. Rachel knew about light, knew about the play and brightness, knew what happened when they were stolen and darkened and gone. Though she supposed she couldn't judge him too much; after all, they were chasing the same thing.

The most she could do was make him fall asleep and this was enough.

She makes him fall for her and she makes him fall for Beth and in the end he never makes it to his quest bed, just to his denizen and that is the end of Paul Dierden. Rachel Duncan smiles and the light glimmers off of her long sharp teeth, her long sharp horns. Sarah loves those even though she will never admit it.

-

Sarah Manning has a stripe of yellow in her hair. She says it is for Helena. Rachel Duncan knows she is a liar.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, easy, easy  
> burn all your things  
> to make the fight to forget  
> Easy, oh, easy  
> burn all your things  
> to make the fight to forget  
> Easy
> 
> \- "Easy," Son Lux


End file.
